


Contratorium (English Version)

by najwasperra



Category: Vis a Vis | Locked In (Spain TV)
Genre: F/F, Lesbian Sex, Love/Hate, Prison, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Zurena, linearoja
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:53:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25435708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/najwasperra/pseuds/najwasperra
Summary: "Why did you come ??" - Zulema presses her again.- I don't know (....)It was a lie.That was what she answered at the time.The truth was much more painful to admit: Macarena Ferreiro had returned because Zulema Zahir was the closest she had to have someone. "A caravan, a proposal and an untold story.Two women. Opposites. Divided by a line.It is necessary to blur it.
Relationships: Macarena Ferreiro Zulema Zahir
Comments: 54
Kudos: 82





	1. A Child With A Gun

**Author's Note:**

> Hey!  
> This is an attempt to tell the story of Macarena and Zulema with the potential that it deserved.  
> Here you will find plenty of flashbacks, which were portrayed as faithfully as possible so that you can connect the timelines of the fanfic chapters with the episodes, which will always be listed previously.
> 
> English is not my first language, so please be patient with me, the original version written is Portuguese is also uploaded on my profile, feel free to read it as you prefer :) 
> 
> Enjoy!

The sun had not yet risen when a cold winter breeze blew the sleeping woman's black hair from the roof of the caravan away. A pair of almond-green eyes opens, the first rays beginning to appear, momentarily invading and blinding the sleepy figure, who hides under the turquoise green hood with all that light.

One minute

Two.

A new attempt.

The pair of eyes opens up again, this time more awake, she pulls the hood away from her face and initiates an attempt to move her body. Moans of pain are heard immediately as she does so.

"Ughh joder" her back locked due to the plastic reclining chair that served as a bed the night before; chairs are not good beds, especially plastic reclining ones, she should remember that.

“Apparently I spent the night here,” Zulema thought, as she adjusted herself in the chair - her back without hurting so much now - and let the icy breeze come violently through her lungs, she still wasn't used to the cold air that free life provided her. In jail, everything was damp even the air. She wonders when will she get used to it.

To freedom.

While thinking about the answer, she takes a packet of cigarettes out of the pocket of her black pants - it is never too early or too late to smoke - prison habits.

She puts the cigarette between her lips, the first attempt to light it frustrated by the wind. She brings her hand closer to the flame, in a cupped way, just a little more ...

"It is the fifth time this week that I tell you to lock the damn door, and is barely Wednesday !!!"

The voice in the distance is accompanied by the top of a blond head that appears gradually on the threshold of the stairs leading to the roof of the van. A funny smile sprouts over Zulema's lips, she doesn't even have to turn around to know who that voice belongs to.

_ Macarena. _

* * *

“Good morning to you too, _rubia_ ” the brunette didn't bother to turn her head in the direction of the younger woman, she just listened to his steps approaching slowly “Always great to have your morning complaints. “What, did you sleep badly? She asks, the tone of irony evident in her voice.

The smoke from the lit cigarette between her fingers distracted her vision. The brunette followed it with her eyes, watching it dissipates slowly in the air. The noise of plastic stirring in the chair next to her indicated that the blonde was now occupying it. She had not yet turned her face in her direction, but Zulema just knew Macarena was carrying an angry expression.

"What's wrong with locking the fucking door?" Macarena's irritated voice entered her ears and the brunette had to suppress an amused smile that insisted on breaking out - "What were you thinking?"

Zulema slowly turned her head towards the chair beside her. In fact, the eyebrows together, and the lips slightly parted, quickly denounced the mood in which her roommate found herself. The brunette stared at her for a few seconds without saying a word. She took a long drag on the cigarette, locking the smoke in the throat before answering:

"I think prison life stayed in Cruz Del Norte, and that I don't need to live locked up in my own house anymore, _me dá igual_ , whether you like it or not," she said, before letting out the smoke in the direction of Macarena, who had now sat up, upright, facing the other woman.

“Doesn't it cross your mind that we may not be the only ones stuck in the woods? That in the middle of the night someone can force the door and ... "Macarena cuts the sentence in half, and recoils in the chair, bringing her hands to her face and rubbing her skin. Zulema notices.

“Hey _, hey, no pasa nada vale?_ It's not like someone is going to get into the van without being seen, besides I'm up here, I'm your personal security chief ”the brunette blinks an eye quickly at the blonde.

"You are a fucking tantrum child ..."

“A child with a gun” Zulema imitatates a gun with her index finger pointed at the blonde, thumb raised, bowing quickly, as if to pull the trigger. Macarena gets up.

"Let's have some coffee" the blonde says as she goes down the stairs.

“Coffee, coffee? Or one of your natural herbal teas? The last cup you poured me was whole out. It costs me nothing to do it again, ”Zulema teases, as she descends the bottom step of the metal stairs.

Macarena rolls her eyes: “Coffee, coffee. And omelet ... with sausage. ”

“Reminds me of Sandovál” - Zulema makes a face. The slightest mention of a piece of cut and dead meat related to the man still amused her. Macarena turns and gives her a disapproving look before getting into the van.

"Oh how I miss Saray."


	2. Why Did You Come Back?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buttons start to be pressed.
> 
> Flashback scene: Vis a Vis - El Oasis: EP 2 - La boda (Macarena goes to get Zulema)
> 
> Good reading!

Zulema Zahir and Macarena Ferreiro had shared the same roof for some time, which had lasted more or less, 725 nights -

In prison, the passage of time was not counted in years or hours, since it made no difference where the clock hands in the principal's office were pointed, you would remain there, like a caged animal, always returning to the iron bars that would serve rudely as "home" for as long as you were there, nor did it matter whether it was daytime or not, if you were in solitary for example; Zulema knew that very well. She remembers the time she was there for so long that she forgot what it felt like to have her skin warmed by the sun's rays. The day she went too far. The day she made Macarena have an abortion -

No, the passage of time was counted by the number of nights that you would be able to survive in there, without being choked with a pillow, burned alive or even hanged with your own sheet. To open your eyes every day required a very high price - the one of risking your own life.

And if the brunette had discovered something during those 725 nights, was the blonde's exceptional talent with cooking. This was something she could not complain about, and the smell that flooded the van when she stepped inside it only confirmed that statement. This was something she could not complain about, and the smell that flooded the van when she stepped inside it only confirmed that statement.

Minimally cutted pieces of onions merged with scrambled eggs with slices of melted cheese, tomato and fried sausage, the thin leaves of basil giving a final touch to it, chef’s kiss. The aromas mixing, inviting. Zulema wonders briefly if Macarena saw her wipe the corner of her mouth hastily on the turquoise jacket sleeve before sitting down at the table.

She did.

Macarena could cook that meal with her eyes closed if she wanted to, it had become her specialty, since she used to prepare it every morning for her father before he went to work, his favorite.

Her mind draws the lines of Leopoldo Ferreiro on an invisible sheet of paper, her memories being used as the pencil. Short gray hair,corners of the mouth pulled back, his nose plump and flat at the tip, the small circles around his brown eyes. Those eyes. She would never have the chance to look at them again. With that thought she sits at the table, serving the small plate in front of her almost unconsciously - Zulema having already served herself - the first mouthful tastes like childhood.

She swallows, tears starting to form.

_"Rubia ..."_ the older woman in front of her brings her back to reality, she secretly thanks for that with a sigh "you can be shit as a roommate, but at least we will not starve" Zulema says before taking another piece of the omelet, without looking directly at the blonde.

“Something you would never know if you hadn't accepted my ride that day when you got out of prison. You would still be waiting for that bus. ” Macarena says, a mocking smile forming  on her lips, looking closely at the brunette, while she pricks a piece of food and puts it in her mouth. Her father's memories now locked up inside her again.

Zulema lets out an ironic laugh, eyes still turned to the plate.

"So you came to save me,  _ mi choffer  _ ..." she replies, teasing the woman in front of her, suddenly lifting her head slightly to face Macarena under her lashes.

"Actually  _ Rubia _ , you never answered my question ... why did you come back?"

* * *

Macarena closes her eyes for just a second, but that is enough to take her back to the past. Back to the iron gates.

Cruz Del Norte grew in front of her as she advanced the car along the dirt road, eyes alert, her heartbeat racing, she couldn't say how much, but she could feel the adrenaline currents passing through her blood and sending waves through her body,they would go from the top of the head to the tips of her toes while driving. 

Suddenly, she finds her target, propped up on a faded blue stone pillar, a cigarette lit in one hand, a ticket in the other. The scene would be cute if it wasn't pathetic. She never thought she would see Zulema Zahir waiting for a bus.

"You look thinner" the blonde says closing the car door, and putting the keys in the pocket of the red plaid jacket, giving a quick glance at the rival. Bodies at a safe distance.

"You are never thin enough, nor rich enough, what are you doing here?" the brunette asks, pressing her lower lip with her fingers, looking away for a few seconds and quickly turning back to face the woman in front of her, waiting for an answer.

Macarena removes the navy blue hood from her head before answering:

“I always imagined that my parents would come to pick me up, or my brother, or Rizos ... but when they released me, they were either all dead, or already out of my life, and I was lonely. Very lonely ... You have no clue of the feeling of vertigo that is to be free and to have no one” she said, chewing each word, throwing them at the rival as if they were needles.

_ “No. Ni puta idea  _ ”Zulema replies shaking her head suddenly, as if to prevent the words from resounding inside her and causing the effect expected by Macarena. Pity. For her, a useless feeling. Zulema was not a woman to feel pity. No one has ever felt pity of her. - a new puff on the cigarette.

'I heard you’ve been a well-behaved girl.”

“I collaborated with the police in two cases. Yes"

"In the end, we all do that."

"Why did you come ??" Zulema presses her again, Macarena was the last person she expected to find as soon as she got out of jail. And it seemed, waiting for her.

“I don't know” she says, shrugging, hands in her pockets “I was curious. I wanted to know what would you do… ”

_ It was a lie. _

That was what she answered at the time. The truth was much more painful to admit: Macarena Ferreiro had returned because Zulema Zahir had become the closest she had to have someone.

But telling the truth involved demonstrating feelings that she had buried along with the body of the foolish and fragile Macarena who stepped on Cruz del Sur, and resurrecting ghosts was certainly not something she wanted to do, not during breakfast.

The light eyes open up again.

“I already told you. Because I was curious, it was just a coincidence, you were just lucky”she says, looking away, as she gets up and goes to the counter in front of them, reaching for a cup of steaming coffee to the brunette.

“Didn't you want coffee? Well there it is ”

Zulema takes the cup suspiciously, eyes looking through her lashes, chin up to face a now probably offended Macarena by the way her gesture was being treated. The older woman blows out the liquid before bringing it to her lips.

One sip.

That didn't last even 2 seconds in her mouth before she spits out the whole content in the cup all over again.

Macarena knowing how to cook, was one thing. Making coffee, however, was quite another.

“Zulema! That is gross!!!"

“ _Rubia…”_ Zulema says, sticking her tongue out in a frown, trying to get rid of the taste of coffee “If you're trying to poison me, there are other ways to do it faster, taking that whole cup would result in a slow and painful death”

"I will never make you coffee again!"

“Yes, that would be great. I will do it myself ”If there was something she had learned back in Jordan, was how to make a good coffee, strong, without straining, the sludge needed to go down to the bottom before serving it.

"What an exaggeration! I bet it’s not that bad, ”Macarena says, pouring some coffee into the cup and drinking it afterwards.

_ Bad idea. _

In addition to having a horrible taste, the liquid burns down the throat. She wanted to spit it out, but she wouldn't give Zulema that pleasure. She swallows the coffee, as if swallowing a shot of whiskey, her light, narrowed eyes slowly opening, still feeling the burning inside her.

"See? You’re the dramatic one.”

Zulema cannot answer, she is too busy looking for something on the table that eliminates the marked taste in her mouth, while she scrapes her tongue on the hem of her jacket, like a cat licking itself, in a futile attempt to pull it out.

Suddenly, she finds it.

Stretching her arm towards the blonde, as if to touch her, her hand suddenly grabs the plate below her and pulls it close to her own body. Macarena quickly understands what is about to happen.

"Don’t you dare! It is the last piece, and you have already eaten twice as much ”- she says pointing to the woman, as if to tell a dog that it cannot climb on the table.

Zulema looks at the plate, then at the blonde, and again at the plate, it seems that she has given up stealing the food from the woman in front of her, arms beginning to come back as if to return the plate to its previous origin. Suddenly, in a fraction of seconds it happens:

She lowers her head and licks the omelet.

"There, it's yours" she says, stretching the plate towards the blonde.

“ _Aaaaah, dios!_ You are unbelievable, unbelievable!“ Macarena gets up and leaves through the open door.

The brunette picks up the plate again, this time using her hands to put the pieces of food in her mouth, a sarcastic laugh forming at the corners of her lips.

"This is for the coffee."

* * *

The rest of the day remained silent for the two women, the blonde sitting in the makeshift armchairs outside the van, entertained with a volume from the Jane Austen collection,  _ Pride and Prejudice _ , the brunette leaving the empty frozen food cans in tatters and the beer bottles, testing her aim with the weapons that had arrived. Fascinating what can be achieved on the black market with a good internet signal and an anonymous digital address.

" _ From everything I have read, I am convinced that it is very common, that human nature manifests a very strong tendency towards pride, that very few people do not feed this feeling, founded on some real or imaginary quality. Vanity and pride are different things, although words are often used interchangeably. A person can be proud without being vain. Pride is more related to our opinion of ourselves, and vanity, to what we would like others think of u-- _ ”

The echo of the shots diverts Macarena's attention away from Mary's words to Lucas, leading her eyes directly to Zulema's, a few meters ahead of her.

Macarena watches her rival over the pages. The woman's back is turned to her, the wind caressing her face, throwing the black locks back, her arm stretched out in front of her body signaled that she was aiming for something, Macarena couldn't say what. Leaning her head to the side,her line of sight captures the exact moment when a bottle of beer consumed the night before blows up into the air, the shards flying everywhere, like a shower of sharp shredded paper.

Smoke was still coming out of the brunette's 38-gauge revolver barrel when she caught signs of movement with the corner of her eye, the dilated green pupils looking straight ahead, still focused on hitting the target, a bottle of Jack Daniel's further down the terrain , supported on a stone wall. The arm stretches again, she holds her breath, focuses on her target, aims and....

The bullet that shattered the bottle did not come out of her gun, she turns her head slightly to face a proud and mocking smile on the lips of the blonde beside her, proud to have taken from the brunette her little amusement .

I thought you were good at this” Macarena teases, eyes still fixed on the open field in front of her, more precisely on an empty olive can. This time the bullet coming out of her 9MM pistol just bounces off the metal of the can, crushing it a little.

"If you want to dislocate your arm, or break a nose bone, you're on the right track." the other says as she approaches, the scorpion prowling its prey.

"Here." Zulema's body suddenly glued to Macarena's from behind,a hot breath against her neck, an internal alert sounding inside her, caught by surprise, preparing for the sting.

"Stretch that arm, legs hip-width apart" the brunette moves the blonde's legs apart with hers "slightly bent, this will absorb the impact and prevent you from being thrown back" she grabs Macarena’s arm, the elder’s hands around hers "hold tight ..." white fingers releasing the safety lock, preparing to pull the trigger. Macarena's head hits the chest behind her, cheeks a millimeter away, light eyes suddenly meeting green eyes …

The bullet makes a winding curve in the air until it passes through the metal, dropping the can. Macarena does not remember feeling Zulema pulling her fingers on the trigger, eye contact breaks due to the noise, bodies now separated again.

The blonde opens her mouth to say thanks, but is interrupted by the leaden sky above them announcing the first signs of a storm, the sound of thunder running through the forest.

Zulema faces the dark mass forming above them:

"The rain that falls outside will never be greater than the storms that we have inside us"

"Shakespeare?"

"No." the brunette is staring at her muddy boots before turning her eyes to the blonde - "Zahir."

Macarena just nods.

"Are you coming or are you going to be outside?"

Zulema seemed to be reflecting on the question asked, kicking the small stones under her feet, before lifting her gaze to Macarena, standing by the door.

"Do you know what’s the difference between me and the cats?"

_ “Perdón?” _ The blonde blinks her eyes quickly and repeatedly, confusion taking over her face.

“The difference…” she continued without listening to her “is that I am not afraid to get my paws wet, nor to get my fur wet with water or blood, it means that I’m free.  _ Me quedo aquí. _ ”

"Enjoy!" Macarena says before disappearing into the van.

She definitely didn't like the rain, it would bring back bad memories. It was raining the night she saw life pass before her eyes in Cruz del Norte, when she found herself tucked into the washing machine, the water filling her lungs causing her to lose consciousness within each cycle, her numb body being tossed against the foam.

Her heartbeat was almost silent when slender hands opened the washer door and pulled her out, dragging her body across the flooded floor, quick and precise movements of cardiopulmonary resuscitation accompanied by the sobs of despair of the woman who had promised to kill her. Macarena would never know that.

It was strange to think of Zulema in this way: the woman who destroyed and at the same time saved her life.

She still had that in mind when the van door banged open, coming through it a completely soaked Zulema Zahir, mascara running down her cheeks, clothes, hair, shoes, everything was dripping.

“Maybe I have more resemblances with cats than I thought”she says with a snort, closing the metal door behind her, grabbing the dish towel on the counter, in an attempt to dry the dark locks that now were leaving a water trail through the house.

Upon seeing the scene, Macarena had to bite her lip to avoid a laugh, and just nodded at the pizza box on the table, signaling to the wet cat in front of her that dinner would not be a problem. Zulema goes to the bathroom, the door locks with a click, the blonde can finally stop suppressing her laughter:

_ “ puto elfo del infierno” _

* * *

Zulema feels the warm water slowly strain each of her muscles frozen by the cold, the few minutes she managed to stay on the roof of the van without getting completely soaked gave her time to think. Think about what had happened earlier that afternoon.

Initially the brunette had planned to just scare Macarena, catching her off guard, pressing her internal levers to provoke chaos inside of her, a particular pleasure that reminded her of that time back in prison. She remembers in detaisl the expression of panic and fragility the blonde carried on her face when she expelled her from her cell, as if she was going to break at any moment, a frightened bunny.

The only thing she didn't expect when she fitted behind her however, were the spontaneous reactions that would follow. How she felt Macarena relax under her body when she grabbed her arm, how she noticed her own pulse suddenly accelerating, light eyes looking at her, daring to meet her gaze ... Zulema thanks herself for having enough control to being able to pull the trigger

_ otherwise .... _

Squeezing her eyes tight under the water, she turns off the shower register, letting the mental images run down the drain. Even though she was inside the van and didn't need to be on the lookout, the woman rarely slept at night. She preferred it that way. Usually when she would fall asleep her mind would be invaded by Fátima's face, the sound of her daughter's body hitting the concrete floor still echoed in her head.

Zulema leaves the bathroom in the direction of the kitchen wearing a simple combination: wide black sports pants, black socks, and a navy blue hoodie.

Supporting one elbow on the table, she sits down to enjoy a piece of pizza and a (now well-made) cup of coffee that would serve as a companion, facing the storm outside, her forehead resting on the cold glass of the window.

* * *

The place seemed silent, and it really was, since thoughts have no voice, otherwise Macarena's would have left her deaf, so high was the intensity with which they were hammering in her head and preventing her from closing her eyes, deep sleep now a distant reality.

She rolls her body between the sheets and blankets, staring at the ceiling in the gloom, the unusual heat between her thighs returning, every time the memory of the brunette next to her would come to mind. 

_ No. This could not be happening.  _

It was unacceptable that she would have any feelings for the woman who destroyed her life. Because of her Macarena found herself totally alone when she left jail, it was because of her that she had lost her parents, her niece, her own freedom; linked to her by a bond that would unite and at the same time suffocate them.

Vitelline twins: As predicted by Altagracia.

Anger grew inside her, bubbling, burning; with an impulse she throws her legs out of bed, and before she realizes she is standing in the middle of the room, where she finds Zulema sleeping with her head resting in her arms, an unlit cigarette forgotten between the fingers.

Macarena begins to approach slowly on tiptoe, her eyes opening holes in the woman in front of her, the frightened bunny suddenly seizing the moment when the scorpion's stinger could not reach his jugular, preparing for the attack, everything that she wants is to close her fingers around that neck, until leaving a bruise ...

Without a warning, a shiver runs through the sleeping body, which shrinks a little.That makes Macarena stop.

_ Zulema was humane. _

So humane that the armor she had built around her was unable to control the body's natural reaction, underneath all that coldness there was a woman made of flesh and bone who had turned pain into a defense mechanism to survive. Humane to the point of letting tears run down her face when she remembered her daughter that night when she climbed into the blonde's bed, which until recently was also Fatima's bed.

Macarena feels the anger dissipate, the muscles in her arm relaxing as her knuckles, previously forming a fist, come undone. She heads to the bedroom, returning a minute later, carrying a blanket that she gently extends over the sleeping rival, tiptoeing out, determined to give her sleep a second chance.

Zulema wakes up hours later, her neck sore from the position in which she fell asleep, her cheek glued to the table. Raising her face while pulling her head lightly with one hand to stretch, she notices the blanket on top of her, something that decidedly wasn't there last time she checked, her gaze roaming the empty room, staring at the entrance of the bedroom in the dark.

A sigh comes out of her mouth, letting out a breath, a half smile forming on the corner of her lips before the green eyes close again.

“ _ Puta Rubia” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what are you thinking? Someone needed to write about this routine thing, like cooking or not knowing how to make coffee, right? That's what we wanted Iván!  
> Let me know what you expect from the story, comments are very welcome and in all languages :)
> 
> The shooting scene was written inspired by a fanart made by @sleazyjanet (twitter), thanks for that Agn!
> 
> I am also very grateful to Dri, my right arm and my Beta, without her this would probably never be possible.
> 
> My twitter is open to receive you too: @najwasperra <3


	3. What Are You Doing Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Memories (and feelings) begin to surface.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good reading!
> 
> References: Vis a Vis T2 EP: 7 - 1:10:50 until the end

Cold sweat was running down Macarena's hands as she gripped the steering wheel with all the strength her fingers could handle, as if she wanted to bury her nails inside of it, the car, way too close to the ravine, the windshield line moving dangerously outward from the road, the tires frying the beaten ground below it, making a white cloud of dust rise towards the eyes, blocking the vision. Macarena wished desperately that time around her would stop for just a few seconds or that the black Skoda wouldn’t have a speed limit , while making the car fly under her feet, the accelerator pedal under the impression that it was going to break at any moment. None of that mattered now. Everything about her life ceased to exist the moment the silver Hyundai passed by her at the intersection leading to the woods, the man's face in the back seat, a blur that fear inside her quickly recognized, her mind taking a few seconds to process the information, facing the sign in front of her:

**ENTRANCE PROHIBITED: NO EXIT**

With horror, she comprehended.

Macarena was now running, betting an unfriendly race against the invisible clock in front of her, praying that the loud horn would reach Leopoldo and Román's ears while chasing the pickup, since their screams evidently wouldn’t.

When she finally reaches her destination, the scene in front of her makes the air escape from her lungs.

The two men have already fallen to the ground, both wounded, Karim pointing the gun at Leopoldo, Macarena now grabs a pistol lying on the ground while running desperately towards her father. She only had time to meet his gaze one last time, before the Syrian pulls the trigger.

Leopoldo Ferreiro was dead.

The blood running down his temple, staining the asphalt, the pupils already lifeless, still supporting his daughter's gaze.

Macarena had also fired.

A shot that was not brave enough to save her father. The thirst for revenge consuming her bones. She approaches Karim, standing above his body, who still holds his arm where she hit him. Macarena points the gun at the skull.

Then she fires, unloading the entire cartridge clip on the head of her father's killer.

* * *

The light eyes open in panic, suddenly meeting green eyes, the blonde pulling a greatest amount of air into her lungs as if she had just emerged from the water, rising to the surface to breathe. She was not expecting to find Zulema face to face with her, that close and that early in the morning.

“W-w-what are you doing here?” that was everything she managed to babble, unable to articulate the words properly, her tongue still dormant.

"I live in here  _ Rubia _ , it's been 2 years now, don't you remember?" Zulema gives her a half smile, looking through her lashes, without moving a single inch of her face away from the blonde’s.

“I meant, here, in my bed " Macarena gets up to the elbows, arms supported on the mattress, watching the brunette.

"This bed is as mine as yours" Zulema sits on the bed, turning her back to the woman behind her - "you are just lying there because it was not your lookout day, and answering the question…” she is now standing , eyes meeting again ”I heard strange noises, as if there were squirrels in here and I came to check what it was,I found out it was you after all.

_ Okay, but why was your face so close to mine when I woke up ? _

"Did you sleep here ??I mean..."Macarena ventures her words while pushing a lock of hair from the face, without looking directly at the woman in front of her.

_ "Ahí? Contigo _ ? I don't like the idea of being your partner, no. I ended up falling asleep on the table, which now has cost me a miserable backache ,  _ joder _ ” she moans in pain when she tightens her joints below the elbows. "tonight this is over" eyebrows raised, the brunette turns to face the blonde, to make sure she got the message " _ así que _ I don’t care where you're going to stick, as long as it's not here" she says, tapping on the mattress.

_ “Vale” _ .Macarena replies, a slight huff following the sentence, as she sinks into the sheets again, enjoying the last few minutes she could be in bed that day. "What time is it?”

“It is too late to have lunch and too early to have dinner, even ‘cause we have nothing to eat.  _ Así que vamos _ , get up - a pillow is thrown in Macarena's face that grunts softly, throwing her feet out of bed and putting on a gray sweatshirt that could almost cover her knees. The blonde made a mental note that the next time you were going to steal clothes, you should at least look at the size of the pieces first.

After that she went to the kitchen, where Zulema was already sitting with her feet stretched out on the padded counter, a cup of coffee on the front, a cigarette in her right hand.

“You shouldn't smoke in here” Macarena says, while pouring herself a cup of tea, still standing, looking at the brunette over her shoulder.

“ _ Rubia .. _ .” Zulema pauses, releasing the smoke locked in her throat “since I was very little, I survived all these years without needing a mother, I don't need you to play this role now”

Macarena shrugs, sitting across from her, lifting the cup to her lips.

“Oh and by the way, since when do you worry about covering me at night? Are your maternal instincts raised or what?” the brunette asks while drinking a sip of coffee, eyebrows raised, waiting for an answer.

Macarena shrinks, leaning back to try and look unconcerned.

“Look, Zulema, some people still care about others, it’s called empathy. I am one of those people. Besides, you were shaking.”

“What would I do without your good deeds” she scoffs, placing a hand on her chest and tilting her head as if bowing. 

The blonde walks past her without saying a word, heading towards the bedroom and coming back five minutes later, jeans, short boots and the same wide sweatshirt as before, car keys in her hands, the only one they didn't have to burn. For now.

“Since you said we have nothing to eat, I'm going to the market. Do you want me to bring you something?”

“3 packs of cigarettes, and twice as many beers as the last time, those were short-lived... Oh, and toilet paper, okay? It ended.” Zulema makes a face.

“Vale”.Macarena says, throwing the hood over her head, and closing the door behind her, walking towards the car, a light rain starting to fall.

* * *

Zulema hears the roar of the car's engine going away until it disappears completely, the silence filling the van. It was comforting for her, it was in those moments that she could hear the gears of her own brain working. It reminds her of prison times. She lost count of how many nights she spent awake, staring at the stone wall, devising plans to escape from that hole, if she concentrated she could hear the thoughts inside of her popping, the nervous impulses being transmitted from one neuron to another, synapses forming; being disturbed at times by someone snoring or fucking in the neighboring bunk bed or cell.

So why now, with all the intelligence she had, always five steps ahead of anyone who dared to challenge her, she couldn't explain what led her to be in conflict with herself over  _ rubia _ ? More specifically, what led her to the bed she was earlier in the morning?

Zulema collapses on her back towards the bed, her joints still cracking. She closes her eyes and remembers the scene:

It must have been early when she felt a light hit her dented face against the wooden table top, she couldn’t tell what time it was, not too early, because the sun was already high in the sky, but still, early. Her back this time burning at the slightest sign of movement or attempt to lift her torso. Zulema hated that, it was at those times that physical pain would remind her that she was no longer as young as she felt she was, the energy of a 20-year-old girl remaining intact within her. Gritting her teeth when she felt the sting in her lower back, she finally managed to stand upright and get up, determined to kick Macarena's ass off the bed that technically would have been hers the night before, the brunette having the misfortune to fall asleep before claiming her domain.

As she gets to the bedroom entrance, the vision stops her: Macarena with her head buried between the pillows, some blond locks falling over her face, wrapped in blankets like a fur ball, her mouth slightly open, causing some noises to come out, as if she was purring.

Zulema let out a smile as she contemplated the scene.Seen in that way, the blonde didn't even look like the sulky creature who got up every morning, always complaining about something, filling the brunette's ears. She looked just...adorable.

Since the bed was a double, there was a considerably large space in front of the sleeping body for a person of Zulema's stature to fit there, she just accepts the idea that her brain suggests, the back pain being much more acute than pride hurt from lying in bed with her rival.

As she approached the woman, the brunette realized that this was probably the first time she was this close to her, without their hands being on each other's necks, just two relaxed bodies sharing the same space. Close enough that she could better observe every trace of Macarena's features, the smooth lines of expression and the sharp ones, the shape of her chin, nose, eyes and lips, her breath making the chest rise and fall slowly. Zulema stood there just watching, not wanting to rationalize why she was doing this, running a finger over the covers that housed the blonde, before closing her eyes already heavy from the sleepless night.

She only opened them again when she felt an unusual breath close to her, fast. Macarena was dreaming, Zulema wondered what. Whatever it was, she was desperate, her body suddenly tense, having small spasms. Zulema shook her slightly. Then the light eyes opened.

_ " What are you doing here?" _

That was the question to which now, lying in bed, reflecting on what had happened, she still had no answer.

She hated that, the way Macarena so directly affected her actions and apparently her thoughts.

_ Macarena .... what would she be doing now? _

* * *

Too many people, too few shelves. That was a way to easily describe the market where Macarena now was, the carts almost crashing into each other due to the reduced space between the crowded corridors, customers jostling on the counter, fighting over the last batch of hot breads that have left, on the shelves, a chaotic composition of products squeezed on top of each other, too full in her opinion. 

So many pairs of eyes there, but none that were paying attention to Macarena. “None” was a way of saying, judging by the two idiots at the bottom of the drinks section, checking her up and down as if she was a piece of meat, her fingertips tingling over the head of the revolver hidden under the wide sweatshirt, the body asking for adrenaline peaks - an addiction that Zulema knew very well - maybe that's why she liked living with the brunette so much, because she wasn't forced to pretend.

Macarena suppresses her own impulses, choosing to load the crate of beers with her elbows bent and close enough that they would hit the two men in the stomach when she passed them.

"Hey! Watch it!"

_ Despicable. _

As she places the purchases at the register, she turns her thoughts back to the fact that she is there, acting normally as if she wasn’t a wanted criminal, without bulging and frightened eyes around her, the brown wig covering her head making at least 85 % of the work. Macarena looks sideways at the door, waiting for the exact moment when someone would come in and announce an assault.

Nobody came.

_ This role usually belonged to her _ , a half smile on her lips after realizing that.

An electronics store in front of the market captures her attention, more specifically the headline being shown on one of the latest generation TV’s that were about to be sold.

“The police still have no information on the whereabouts of the pair of robbers at the  _ Casino La Mancha _ , we had the opportunity to speak with Juán Velázquez, son of one of the owners of the place, who was also surrendered at the time of the robbery.

"No one was hurt, but I assure you that my men and I are already taking the appropriate steps to ensure that  _ los culpados ( the guilty ones) _ are found and punished"

“ _ Los Culpados _ ” of course he would use the words in the masculine gender. His manhood was too fragile to admit that he had been stolen by two women, and he knew it, he just omitted that information, after all their faces were not covered, unless he had serious problems in distinguishing female faces behind sunglasses. .

_ He would never confess. It was too humiliating for him. _

As the man speaks, the blonde's eyes focus on another point. His hands.

The left palm is bandaged. And you wouldn't have to remove the strip of linen to know that there was a cut in it.

Macarena knows exactly how deep that cut is. She did it herself.

Her shoulders stiffen, her jaw clenched.

Her fingers suddenly stroking the revolver, her eyes sparkling with anger.

_ He would not hurt her again. _

“You need help?” the blonde has her thoughts interrupted by a friendly salesman standing by the door “are you looking for something? ”

“Actually I…” Macarena was going to thank him and say “no” politely, when something familiar inside the store caught her attention.

".... I would like some of these"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what are you thinking?
> 
> Yes, we needed that moment, Zule watching Maca sleep, since this was mentioned in El Oásis, I couldn't stop thinking about it, the scene just needed to be written and I feel like I did my part in it.
> 
> We can see that there is an untold story that will start to unfold gradually, as well as the evolution of the relationship between Maca and Zulema and how they will deal with it.


	4. It's Not Like I Wanted To Kill You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Macarena needed a moment to breathe. She supports her back where Zulema used to be, letting herself slide until she sits on the floor, her head in her hands.
> 
> What just happened?
> 
> The heat between her legs certainly knew the answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, you have no idea how happy I am to announce Chapter 4 is finally here! This one took me longer than expected because I had to rewrite it a few times before considering it perfect to deliver to you guys. Get ready for an emotional roller coaster, you're gonna love it, I promise!
> 
> I think this is my longest one so far, but nothing more fair, since we were out of updates for more than a month.  
> (There are some refferences on the final notes to help you create a better image of the situation in your mind)
> 
> Enjoy!

Zulema hoped that the beats that had started inside her head about 5 minutes ago would cease so that she could go back to sleep, her eyes closed tightly in an attempt to make sleep come faster.

Nothing happened. The beats now seemed to have become louder and with less interval between them, incessant, forcing her to open her eyes.

The noise was not coming from her head. It was coming from outside. From the door.

_ Rubia. _

“The van is not that big for you to take so long to open the door. Do you know for how long I've been knocking?” the blonde says, after entering with a rectangular package in one hand.

“ It was locked, wasn't it? As you wanted” the brunette contests by raising her eyebrows, using the rival's arguments against herself.

_ Touché. _

“You are in urgent need of a pair of keys”

“Do you know what day is?” Macarena interrupts her, as if to avoid another discussion.

_ \- A ver… - _ she purses her lips, small wrinkles appearing on her chin, eyes looking through the lashes, pretending to concentrate “No. Ni idea” Zulema finally answers, which was kind of true, the intention was to provoke Macarena but neither she knew what month it was, let alone the date.

“December, 23. The day before Christmas Eve” the blonde seemed not to care about the other's response, eyes fixed on the package in front of her, fingers ripping through the bundle.

“So…” Macarena removes two sets of colored Christmas lights from the packaging, displaying them above her head.

"No."

“Come on, Zulema, It's not like I had brought a pine tree into the van or had set up a nativity scene in the middle of the room”

"Rubia, if there was a pine or nativity scene mounted inside that van, you were the one who would not be in it."

“It's only for 2 days, ok? Then we can remove them if it bothers you so much” Macarena replies, emphasizing the words on “so much” sarcastically, it was her turn to test the older woman's patience.

"And if I remember correctly, it was you who said that we needed a less tacky and more like us decoration, right?" she finished, a provocative smile on the corner of her lips.

Zulema is standing by the door, staring at Macarena, the sight of the blonde holding the lights emptying any intention of repudiation in the brunette's body language.

Then, without saying a word, she approaches. Macarena's breath becoming labored as Zulema closes the space between them. The blonde feels a breath of hot air hit her neck, the face of one less than two inches from the other. Without breaking eye contact, Zulema rubs her fingers over Macarena's hands - who shrinks slightly at the touch - finally closing them around the string of colored lights, the simple object rescuing distant memories, memories that seemed to belong into another life:

* * *

_ She and Hanbal, together in Madrid, experiencing the 25th of December for the first time as it was traditionally celebrated by the people of the West. There, standing in the middle of the Plaza Mayor, while watching the lights and fireworks coloring the sky - the Christmas carols mingling with the screams of hysteria and excitement from the crowd of people who had filled the square, embracing each other - Zulema could have sworn it was the first time she felt genuinely happy, letting the feeling fill her completely, the realization that she was finally free hitting her like a lightning. At that moment, lit by the fires above her, Zulema wept. A repressed cry that had been accumulating for many years, tears of relief, as if she could take the child inside her by the hand and show her the lights, telling her that the suffering was over, there was still hope - maybe that's why she started to sob, Hanbal wrapping his arms around her waist, silently. _

* * *

Zulema blinks her eyes, shaking her thoughts and returning to reality, to realize that she is still standing before the blonde, the woman carefully studying her features. She then walks away, removing the lights from Macarena's hands in a frighteningly delicate way, then turning on her back, leaving behind an intrigued blonde who tries discreetly, although in a useless way, to control her own breathing.

In Muslim culture, the typical celebration of the birth of Jesus, son of God, did not exist, but the truth was that Christmas had always enchanted Zulema in some way, not because of the symbolism of the tradition itself, that didn't matter to her, how could she possibly believe in a savior if no one ever really came to save her when she needed the most? No, that was not what captivated her. It was the way people decorated their homes, how joy and euphoria seemed to contaminate the whole atmosphere, giving the impression for at least 2 or 3 days that violence and chaos did not exist, a date where the word “peace” could finally have some meaning.

Zulema focuses on the object in front of her, the feeling of that Christmas night in Madrid suddenly being relived, one of the happiest moments of her life brought back to her thanks to the blonde, albeit unconsciously.

She turns to face Macarena, who is now just curious, her heart rate having already stabilized.

"I'm only going to help you with this because I know it's impossible for you to do something yourself without getting in trouble,  _ vale rubia _ ?" - She says without waiting for a reaction, leaving through the open door.

Macarena blinks two or three times until she realizes that that was a 'Yes' to the previous request she had made, letting out a small satisfied smirk on the corner of her lips before following the brunette out of the van.

* * *

"Reach me that other end," the brunette says, standing on the roof of the trailer, staring at Macarena from above, immediately completing the sentence "... preferably without tripping over it".

“ _Vale_ ” - the blonde tiptoes to the lowest side of the van, raising her arms towards Zulema, handing her the requested tip, watching as she hangs the lights on the awning, leaving the smaller ends loose, as if the colored lights were streaming down, until they reached the inside of the trailer through the top compartment on the roof that led to the bedroom, directly above the bed. Zulema used to like to open it sometimes to watch the stars before sleeping.

As she watched the brunette, Macarena's mind fought off a bombardment of questions against her, all at the same time.

_ Was that real, was it really happening? Or was she dreaming? Fuck, did she even had her eyes open? _

Macarena didn't dare to blink, afraid that the image in front of her would suddenly disintegrate.

Christmas had always been her favorite date, the only holiday that would manage to bring the whole family together without excuses, it was their tradition, only the four of them, Román and Leopoldo were in charge of bringing the pine tree, while Macarena was responsible for decorating it and helping to prepare the Christmas supper with Encarna, so when the clock struck midnight they would lay out a mattress in front of the fireplace in the living room and exchange gifts among themselves, the night almost always ending with her father or mother reminiscing about family stories. Macarena used to fall asleep in front of the fireplace and only wake up the next morning.

And so it was for many years, but then she got arrested and everything changed. And now ... after more than 10 years of un celebrated Christmas, she would finally have the chance to do it again, this time with Zulema, which was everything that she had.

_ Everything that she had. _

The realization hitting her like a lightning.

"Macarena!"

The sound of her name echoing making the blonde jump and turn around sharply.

“ _Eres surda o que?_ ”

The sight of Zulema on top of the roof, resting her right hand on her knee to be leveled with the blonde's line of sight, while holding the lights in her left hand made Macarena's heart skip a beat and instantly felt her shoulders relax.

She was not dreaming after all.

“Sorry I was distracted. Were you calling me? ”

“At least 3 times. I need you to plug the extension into the socket to let us know if everything is working. I'm going to get out of here and then we put the last wire around the van, _vale_ _?_ ”

_"Vale_ " - the blonde replies, disappearing through the door. A minute later the colored lights come on.

Zulema took a leap towards the ground, the caravan was tall enough for her not to get hurt when jumping up from there.

"Not bad" Macarena was now leaning against the doorframe.

" Thank you. I've been improving ”the brunette gives her a sarcastic smile.

“I was talking about the lights” the blonde approaches, remaining silent for a few moments.

"It's beautiful."

Zulema looks up towards the caravan to admire her work. The same lights she had seen in Madrid that night in the square now adorned her…

_ Home? _

She senses a pair of light eyes staring at her, ending her momentary trance.

" _Venga,_ let's finish this before it gets dark" she hands one tip in the blonde's hand, heading to the opposite side of the van.

" _Oye_ , when are you going to admit?" - Macarena breaks the silence between them.

"Admit what?"

_ The two approaching slowly _

“Tu lo sabes”

“ Ilumina me”

_ Closer _

“When are you going to admit that you were really in the mood to do that? That helping me was just an excuse? ”

"Rubia ..."

_ Closer _

"The sparkle in your eyes doesn't lie Zulema"

“How do you know my eyes were shining? Were you watching me? ”

_ Closer. _

The distance between them was gone. Zulema was now leaning against the van and Macarena was standing in front of her.

“Just admit it. Admit it …  _ que te gusta” _

The brunette gives a slight huff before answering “Me subestimas”

“Pués si que te gusta, te gus-”

Macarena did not see the thick cable of the extension, stumbling over it and losing her balance. The body being thrown forward in the direction of Zulema who quickly holds her by the shoulders, while Macarena's only instinct was to wrap her arms around the woman's neck in front of her, still holding the lights, wrapping them around the brunette out of purpose, keeping their bodies like that, glued together.

Light eyes meet green eyes, lips almost touching, the familiar sensation of heat building up between the thighs.

Macarena stares at Zulema's face illuminated by the lights around her, leaning unconsciously towards the brunette, now with her attention turned to her mouth ...

" _Rubia tonta_ ” - Zulema smiles nervously, finally breaking the tension between them, pushing the blonde gently back until she is upright, removing the lights and passing by her, entering the van.

Macarena needed a moment to breathe. She supports her back where Zulema used to be, letting herself slide until she sits on the floor, her head in her hands.

_ What just happened? _

The heat between her legs certainly knew the answer.

* * *

"So?" A hand gently pushed the last piece of pizza from the plate towards the brunette. It was what they usually ate when wasting the day in bed or were hung over. A kind of ritual for them.

" _Que_?" Zulema grabs the piece of pizza that was given to her, facing Macarena.

"I ... I asked you what you thought of the lights" Macarena says, looking away, throwing her body back on the seat backrest, still not having the courage to look into the green eyes after the incident with the lights.

“ I think…” she hesitates “.... I once got a similar sensation when getting drunk” Zulema mimics flashing lights with both hands, fingers opening and closing quickly, in front of Macarena's face, then immediately lowering her arms and slightly shrugging her shoulders “at least it's better than the older couple-style decor.”

“So you mean that you consider us an elderly couple? the blonde teases, staring at her, now acting as if nothing had happened, the damn half sarcastic smile coming back to her lips, Zulema already wanted to pull it out of there.

“ _Mira, Rubia_ … I will not stand in here arguing with you. This is not how it works “ the brunette says, lifting her chin, cutting the sentence of the other” “I’m going straight to bed, because last time, your ass was lying on it.” as she prepares to leave, rising from the table, a sudden and loud crack as soon as she does.

_“Ahh joder_ ….” she moans, cringing.

“ What was that?”

“That, rubia is what happens when you sleep on the kitchen table” Zulema says, her voice still weak from the twinge, pressing her fingers on the origin of the pain that now seemed to radiate all over her back.

“I'm not going to hear you whimper all night. We are solving this now” Macarena takes Zulema by the shoulders, leading her towards the bedroom.

“What are you doing ?” - the brunette snarls, unable to turn, the pain filling each one of her joints.

_ “Tranquila _ ... it's not like I wanted to kill you” Macarena says helping Zulema to sit on the bed, and then disappearing from her field of vision, the brunette unable to move.

“ _Rubia…_ ???”

Silence.

Suddenly a finger hits the spot on her back, as if someone had stuck a needle in there, causing her to hiss in pain.

The reaction is immediate. In a second, white fingers grab the hand that had previously been touching her, pulling Macarena's wrists close to the brunette’s face, with a tug.

“What the fuck do you think you're doing?” Zulema growls in her ear.

The blonde takes control of the situation again, pulling her arms out of her hands, breaking free.

“You will have to trust me.” the words coming out in a low tone, a lot lower than she intended.

The answer was the sight of the brunette's shoulders, previously tensed, like an animal preparing to attack, relax slowly, the scorpion giving passage to the tiger - after all Macarena could no longer be compared to a helpless bunny, not after all those years - as if from that moment there was a silent truce between the two of them.

And so it was. The blonde's hands were firm and at the same time delicate, running her fingers all over Zulema's spine, pressing the points in a surgical way, making the body in front of her shiver under her touch, even with her being dressed.

The green eyes were closed. Her ajar mouth letting out silent sighs, the pain, something that now was giving her pleasure.

Macarena changes tactics, using her knuckles to loosen the contractures, increasing the pressure, heating the skin under the fabric, which is instantly noticed by the brunette, a low moan suddenly filling the room.

That was like powder for the blonde. The heat between her thighs accumulating when she heard the scorpion moan under her palm, even in a silent way, excited her. A lot. And she hated herself for it.

“I need you to lie on your stomach so that I can reach the knots further down in the lower back” Macarena was the one finally breaking the uncomfortable silence between them.

Zulema just nodded and turned around, burying her face between the pillows shortly thereafter, her expression unreadable.

Macarena then starts circular movements with her fingertips, feeling the back below her arch slightly, with one hand on each side of the hips, choosing to be beside the body and not sitting on it, it was better not to cross so many lines at once.

Her thumbs slip, not getting enough contact area to put pressure on Zulema's stitches, the thin fabric of her T-shirt getting in the way a little.

Without waiting for an answer, Macarena slowly folds the hem of the woman's T-shirt, pulling it up slightly, just enough to touch the skin, briefly staring at the back of the brunette's head, already waiting for an abrupt reaction that could take her by surprise.

It did not come.

She hesitated for a few moments before touching it again, drawing small circles in the lower back as before, as the pressure increased, Zulema's breathing became more intense, which affected Macarena intensely, beads of sweat breaking out on the forehead...

Suddenly, another sound. This time it was not a moan but a deep sigh. Zulema had fallen asleep.

The blonde had to stifle a laugh that insisted on breaking out while watching her rival, lowering the hem of her shirt again, and placing herself next to her.

There, so relaxed, Zulema looked nothing like the woman who had destroyed her life. Macarena lets that thought occupy her mind as she feels her eyes heavy with sleep, a slight smile on her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So??? I told you this would be a roller coaster. In case you might be wondering this was originally written WITHOUT Madrid's memories and without the entire caravan Christmas lights scene, slowburn and everything, I am glad I rewrote this one and glad for my blue sapphic @sapphiczule for making me the situation from another angle.
> 
> This is the image Zulema has of the Plaza Mayor when she gets there, but consder it full of people:  
> https://i.pinimg.com/originals/31/1e/af/311eaf53abcd5c9b9ad4482b4231a440.jpg
> 
> Can't wait to read your reviews about it, I'm @najwasperra on twitter come say Hi!


End file.
